A Walk Through the Camp
by quickand2thepointless
Summary: Skrimir sends Ranulf through the gauntlet of his admirers. But how many hearts can the handsome laguz manage to break in one night? Sort of RanulfxEveryone, because everyone loves Ranulf!


**A/N:** I LOVE Ranulf, and so do many characters in the PoR/RD series. This is just me poking fun at his legions of admirers (of which I am one) and giving my ferocious little kitty some well deserved love.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Fire Emblem, but I certainly owned Ranulf in my dreams last night (har har)

* * *

All Ranulf needed was a Satori Sign. Skrimir had asked for one, and Ranulf was one of the few among the beast tribe not conveniently and vaguely "busy doing something else" when the request had been made. That, added to the fact that Skrimir seemed obsessed with grinding his gears, earned Ranulf a swift shove out of the Gallian tent with instructions to go get the desired object from "Ike's little tactician" and to avoid dawdling as much as he so gratingly tended to do.

Ranulf sighed. It wasn't really his fault. People just liked to talk to him, for some reason. But an order was an order, and he wasn't going to risk Skrimir's wrath for the sake of a few minutes of socialization. He was going to go get that Satori Sign from Soren and return immediately to Skrimir without a second of delay in between.

Or so he hoped...

* * *

Mist and Boyd were kissing, hidden from the rest of the camp by the shadows of a large and leafy oak tree. It was their first kiss, the sweetest and most precious contact of their blossoming relationship, and both were enjoying it immensely. Boyd liked how light and easy Mist was to hold within his arms, how soft and pretty she looked when his embrace made her blush. For her part, Mist loved the strength of Boyd's arms and the clumsiness of his romantic gestures, which proved how boyish and inexperienced he really was for all his confidence and self praising speech.

They drew apart for a moment, Boyd practically beaming at the thought of sweet little Mist well and truly loving him, and Mist herself giggling in euphoric delight. Boyd stared deeply into her eyes with as much seriousness as someone so light-hearted as himself could muster, and she returned his gaze unwaveringly.

Unwaveringly, that is, until Ranulf walked by.

Boyd quickly whirled around, eager to see what sort of ruffian had stolen his girlfriend's attention. When he saw that it was Skrimir's adviser she was ogling, his confidence deflated like a balloon released of all its air.

"Ranulf, huh?" he muttered under his breath. "Damn it. I bet it's his eyes she likes. Two different colors. Who could compete with that?"

"Actually it's his biceps," Mist responded absently, watching as the cat laguz's muscles rippled as he pumped his arms. "They're very... nice."

"Oh..." Boyd glared at his own arms. "Oh." He turned away and quickly began dashing away towards his tent.

"Boyd, where are you going?" Mist called to him. Ranulf had disappeared further down the camp, and her trance had been effectively broken.

"I'm going to work out!" he called back, making sure he was pumping his biceps with extra ferocity as he ran.

* * *

Shinon and Gatrie were playing cards by the camp fire. Gatrie was losing, as always.

"So, I met this girl the other day in the camp," he was saying. "She's very tiny and pretty, and she has these very big and beautiful eyes. I think I may have a chance this time."

"If you're talking about Heather, you don't have a chance," Shinon snorted. "She doesn't go for your sort, if you know what I mean."

"No, not Heather."

"And I don't think Nephenee is interested. Or Ilyana, for that matter."

"I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about Lyre. Have you ever seen her before? Lyyyrrre?"

"I frankly have no idea who you're talking about. Is she one of those sub-human freaks? I thought you'd have better taste than that."

"You're right, it's hopeless," Gatrie sighed, though Shinon had said nothing of the sort. "Why would she go for me when she has Ranulf as her commander?" He glared menacingly at the unknowing laguz as he sauntered by their fire. "I bet if I looked like Ranulf, I could have any girl in this camp that I wanted."

"You want to look like a filthy sub-human? Are you drunk?"

"No. C'mon, you don't think he's attractive? Not even a little?"

"You are drunk," Shinon snapped decisively. "I'm almost embarrassed for you."

* * *

Mia was training. She loved to train. It was the thing she loved most in the world. If she could have her way, her whole day would be just eating, sleeping, breathing, and training. If only she could find her true rival... well, she wouldn't think on that now. Thinking was a distraction, and nothing could distract her while she was training, not even-

_Ranulf!_

Mia immediately threw down her sword. "Ranulf!" she yelled, waving furiously to get his attention. The laguz waved back, but didn't stop walking.

Undeterred, Mia cupped her hands around her lips to magnify her voice. "Just so you know," she called out to Ranulf's retreating back, "you can form a Laguz Alliance with _me_ any day!"

When he didn't turn around, she picked her sword up again. "That was a good line," she told herself, smiling proudly. Then she returned to her training.

* * *

Lyre wasn't doing much of anything. Just sitting outside her tent and staring up at the stars. Beorc writers were always comparing eyes to stars, because both twinkled, in a way, and both could shine with majestic and breathtaking luminescence. But she could see nothing in the night sky that reminded her of the eyes she loved. All the stars she saw were distant and colorless. There was no purple one and no green one resting side by side, glistening with the light of infallible leadership and raw talent.

Stupid beorc writers.

She was about to reenter her tent when Ranulf walked by, his eyes, the ones she loved so much, looking like... like... not stars, really. Not rivers of untapped emotion or shards of precious gems. Just pure, ruthless, and unparalleled beauty.

"Hi, Ranulf!" she called out to him, her voice high and breathless.

"Hi, Lyre!" he called back, his voice perfectly normal. "I'm on business for Skrimir right now. Sorry I can't talk!"

She sighed dejectedly as he walked away. Oblivious as always.

Goddess above, he was beautiful.

* * *

Kyza was thinking about all the many ways he could possibly ensnare Ranulf's attention away from Lyre. Maybe buying him a gift would work... no, that was brown-nosing. Maybe he could wipe out half a battlefield on his own and prove his strength... no, that damned beorc Ike and his mercenaries were always killing things faster than he could. Maybe he could show up to a meeting naked... no, too obvious. Maybe...

Ranulf walked by, his pace quick and single minded, but Kyza was quick on his feet, and he instantly jumped to attention at the sight of his superior officer. "Hello, sir, do you think-"

"Sorry, Kyza," Ranulf interrupted. "I'm on a mission for Skrimir. Another time maybe." He started jogging away, as if he couldn't get away from Kyza's tent quickly enough. He was running late, of course, but his subordinate didn't know that.

Kyza's feelings were hurt, but he kept a calm face as he sank back to the ground. _Well_, he thought sulkily, _at least I can cross that method off my list._

* * *

Lethe was thinking about her sister, Lyre. She'd always been the stronger of the two, and she believed it was her duty to protect her less able, less experienced twin. Even though Lyre insisted upon participating in this war as an equal, Lethe would fight to the death to ensure her survival, even by throwing herself in front of worthless beorc steel in sacrifice for her sister's sake. She would do nothing to hurt her. Ever. Well, at least nothing permanent. She had to be mean from time to time to keep Lyre realistic and aware of the dangers of war, but she would never go so far as to lie to her or steal the object of her affections...

...who was at that moment jogging right by, his slim hips swaying hypnotically, his blue hair slightly ruffling in the breeze, his tail dancing back and forth, his muscles nearly bursting out of his clothes, his...

_Snap out of it, Lethe, _she nearly screamed out loud. She quickly tore her gaze away, pounding her forehead with her fist in shame. _Don't. Even. Go. There._

But it was hard not to, in a way. Ranulf was magical, his every move alluring and distinct. She would ignore her animal instincts for Lyre's sake, but she just couldn't get that confident trot out of her head.

* * *

Ike and Soren were in the supply tent, re-stacking the wind tomes Rolf had accidentally toppled over earlier in the day. Well, that was what it looked like they were doing, in any case. Soren was actually watching Ike's huge and weathered hands under lidded eyes, thinking of how gentle they could be when they wanted, how soft and delicate and teasing. And Ike was watching Soren's hair as it drew like a curtain over his face and pooled around his shoulders whenever he bent forward. The wind tomes were just a secondary thing, a conveniently good excuse to be alone, for their hands to brush as they both "accidentally" reached for the same object...

But their thoughts were rudely interrupted as Ranulf burst into the tent, out of breath and panting. "SatorisignforSkrimir," he addressed Soren, his voice tired and raspy. "Give it. Now."

Soren rolled his eyes and wordlessly headed to the back of the tent where he kept the belongings of the laguz tribes. As they waited for his return, Ike placed a concerned hand on Ranulf's upper arm. "You all right there?" he asked.

"Fine. Don't worry about it."

Ike gave his friend a hearty, companionable smack on the back. "Well, don't over exert yourself. The Laguz Alliance depends on you."

Soren returned quickly, armed with a Satori Sign in one hand and a Blizzard tome in the other. He handed the former over to a very grateful Ranulf, and turned to Ike with the latter.

"Uh, Soren," Ike quickly objected, raising his hands in surrender, "what are you planning on doing with that thing?"

"Oh, I don't know," the infuriated mage retorted, flipping threateningly to the first page. "But if you're in love with Ranulf's muscles so much, why don't you marry them?"

* * *

Skrimir was laughing. He had originally found it amusing how many men and women swarmed adoringly around that little beorc general, Ike, but that was nothing compared to the masses that worshiped his Ranulf! How ridiculous! He wasn't even _that_ good looking! Sure, he had a lean and muscular body and beguiling, mismatched eyes, but that shouldn't warrant the whole camp melting into a blob of lust whenever he walked by. At least the whole thing made for good entertainment. Skrimir couldn't wait to see how many heads and hearts exploded all thanks to his suave and handsome assistant.

In the middle of one of his amused chuckles, Ranulf himself burst back into the tent, holding the Satori Sign aloft in triumph. "Got it! And I'm not a second late this time. Take that, Skrimir!"

Skrimir raised an eyebrow. "Well done. I can't believe you actually did it. Was your fan club otherwise occupied this evening?"

"Fan...club?"

Skrimir was about to clue him in when he noticed something he hadn't realized before. Ranulf, though he was trying to maintain his composure for the sake of pride, was panting and out of breath, his finely structured chest rising and falling in ragged patterns. Sweat poured down from the band he wore around his forehead, and also glistened brightly from his collarbone, shoulders, neck, and back. Skrimir couldn't believe it. Ranulf looked... sexy.

"Hey, Ranulf," he said before he could stop himself. "Has anyone told you how hot you look tonight?"


End file.
